Brittle
by WriterPatriot
Summary: After the Fall of Beacon, it's hard to find someone the world hates more than the man assigned to protect it. A quick look into Ironwood's life after the Battle of Beacon.


**Opening A/N: I've returned to school, but also to Remnant, and I'm in the mood for Angst. Hurt without comfort is not what I usually prefer to write, but characters like Ironwood somehow demand it.**

 _Brittle_

 _"_ _Dear Ms. Xiao Long,"_

His pen moved with quick, businesslike strokes, his writing punctuated only by very non-businesslike curses and rapid scribbles. On his desk lay a box, inside of which was nestled a prosthetic arm. Instead of the Atlas crest as on his own numerous cybernetic enhancements, this arm bore the crest of Vale.

 _"_ _It is with great sorrow that I hear of your confrontation with Adam Taurus, the notorious White Fang extremist."_

He sat back and considered the 23 words on the page full of their fallen forerunners. Even more angering in his mind was the time: 8:45 AM. Those few words had taken the P.R. powerhouse of the Kingdom of Atlas forty-five minutes to write.

A sudden knock at the door stole what little focus he had from his letter to Yang. "General Ironwood, Sir, the Mistral Council is ready to reconvene," Winter Schnee called softly. For the second time in the day, he wearily rose and left his office.

Mistral as a nation was furious with the outcome of the Vytal Festival in Vale. They had lost a prized national icon in Pyrrha Nikos. The White Fang's invasive forces and, more relevant to the present hearing, Ironwood's rogue robots, had injured several Haven Academy students and citizens of Mistral. Ironwood, by his heavily-self-influenced appointment to Head of Security for the Festival, had become a lightning rod for accusations from across Remnant.

As the Mistral Council Chairman continued on, unwilling to accept Ironwood's condolences or sympathies, the General became angry. Couldn't they see he had tried? Had they not noticed that he himself had joined the fight, and was perfectly willing to destroy his hijacked creations in the name of the people's safety? _Did they realize he had given half of who he was, and would give the other half in a heartbeat?_ Like the official he was, he remained calm and attentive on the outside. Inside, he carried the emotions of any untrained man, made far worse by years spent out of touch with them.

"…and in conclusion," the head of the Mistral Council summarized, "It is the claim of this Council that Headmaster-General James Ironwood of Atlas has violated international military border treaties, deployed unproven and vulnerable automated technology in the securing of a Grimm- and Extremist-Threat Area, and failed to account for threats of supernatural nature; the tragic results of his oversights are the deaths and sustained injuries of Mistral, Vale, Atlas, and Vacuo nationals, the complete loss of the Amity Colosseum which represents a significant global investment, the loss of the Cross-Continental Transmissions site at Beacon Academy, and thus the use of the entire system, and the loss of Beacon Academy itself, along with several of its invaluable faculty."

In his lust for credit, for _trust,_ for _approval,_ he had taken responsibility for every preparation, strategy, and weapon used in the operation. _"And this is only one of the Kingdoms,"_ he internally laughed joylessly.

After the three-hour "discussion" was over, Ironwood returned to his office and picked up his notepad. The words he had written there earlier were incredibly embarrassing to read now, and he crossed them out, each pen stroke like a sword blow to his own flesh. Flipping the paper over, he started again.

 _"_ _Dear Ms. Xiao Long,_

 _It is with great sorrow that I consider the aftermath of your encounter with Adam Taurus of the White Fang. It causes me no small amount of grief that I am responsible for the injuries to you and your fellow students and countrymen."_

And bow at the feet of someone so much younger, especially someone who does not share a common nation? He didn't bother crossing off the words before he ripped the paper to shreds, cast it into a mug, and sparked it with a lighter. As he watched the tiny fire, his eyes wandered to the crest on the side of the mug. _Beacon…_

He thought again of Ozpin and of their secret group. Being people of power, they all had very few opportunities for friendship and togetherness, but their group, aside from secretly controlling so much of the world's standing armed forces and so many Huntsmen, had become important to him. He remembered the day when Ozpin had surprised them with the mugs after Beacon's last Vytal Festival—eight years ago, nearly to the day.

Grateful that the smoke hadn't reached the smoke detectors, Ironwood tried writing again. This time he skipped the heading and the apology, and simply winged it.

 _"_ _You fought honorably as Beacon collapsed around you. Especially given the tragic outcome of the fight between Pyrrha Nikos and my own student, Penny Polendina, I am convinced that there is a common denominator that none of us would have ever expected. You can count on the benefit of a doubt from me should charges be brought against you."_

Honestly, what good would that do? Standing up for Yang would quite possibly place more suspicion upon her. He calmly and sadly crossed off the last sentence. He had never felt so powerless.

* * *

The Mistral Council meetings soon became the least of his worries. The Vale Council looked at him as if they wanted to shoot him on the spot. Beyond the war-criminal and moral charges mirrored from Mistral, Vale demanded heavy reparations for the damage to their city and equipment, and for the injuries to and deaths of their students and armed forces. They even demanded that Ironwood partially account for a clause in the Amity Colosseum's charter, which mandated that the powers that be of the Colosseum's location pay to repair any damage to the structure. Not that Ironwood blamed Vale, of course. The City of Vale was left completely impassible due to the Grimm invasion. More deaths from that night were still being confirmed as freelance and volunteer Huntsmen and Huntresses, alongside anyone capable of arming themselves, wrenched the city back from the horde, building by building.

 _"_ _NO!"_ the Vale Council Chairman slammed his hands down on the table. "Ironwood, that proposition is insane. Where, in that rusted mind of yours, did you find the idea that _more_ of those thoughtless, soulless _machines_ would help at all?"

"I am merely offering Atlas' assistance in the restoration of the City of Va-"

"If you enter that city or the Academy grounds, I shall have no choice but to arrest you, that is, if the Creatures of Grimm fail to relieve us of that duty," the Chairman spat.

Ironwood groaned inside as he looked around the table of glaring faces. Even though the Chairman had broken protocol drastically by losing his temper and threatening a foreign official, not a single person in that room would ever accuse him of it. Everyone present had lost way too much. One of the chairs had even lost its occupant. Ozpin. Unable to look into their condemning eyes, Ironwood focused hard on the backrest of the empty chair. Would Ozpin have understood that he had tried?

* * *

"Sir, it has been an hour, and they have not responded," Winter informed him. Their unarmed cruiser was hovering over the ocean within direct-transmission radio range of Shade Academy. The Specialist did her best to conceal her worry, but was finally beginning to fail. Neither Winter nor Ironwood was accustomed to being outgunned, and Vacuo was known to become the loose cannon of Remnant whenever military action occurred. With the verified losses of citizens and Shade Academy students from the Beacon Academy grounds at the hand of hijacked Atlas tech… Hanging his head slightly, Ironwood gave the order to turn the ship around before Vacuo's National Guard became too tempted. He had tried every peaceful protocol in order to get a response from the isolated nation, and none of it had worked.

* * *

 _"_ _Please accept this as a token of my sympathy, remorse, and admiration."_ Several papers now littered the office floor, and he wished with whatever was left of his heart that no one would enter without giving the mandated knock on the door. He glanced at the clock again. 6:54 PM. Fortunately, as it was his home country, the Atlas Council meeting had gone down quickly, before this whole political disaster had started. He would _barely_ keep his job. That didn't mean he was trouble-free in his kingdom of birth, however. In the near future, he was expected to meet with Jacques Schnee about a contingency plan he had developed, heavily influenced by this afternoon's difficulty with Vacuo.

Scooping up the wasted notepad paper, he set up his Scroll's holographic desktop screen and began to type up a simple bill for the Council. It would disallow the sale of any form of Dust mined in Atlas or by Atlas-based companies to the other three kingdoms. His meetings with the other three kingdoms had been unsettling at best and silently terrifying at worst, and if they managed to scare Ironwood of all people, the civilians of Atlas would be terrified. The entire situation was made so much worse by the military reputation and might that Atlas had lost in Vale. Alongside his political battles, Ironwood performed many honored funerals for his men and made massive monetary requests for the replacement of the fighter jets and the Atlesian Knights.

He found the trappings of political dialog and persuasion much more conducive than his previous project, and he finished the Dust Embargo bill within the next hour. Before he submitted it, he stopped and thought. Could his reputation sink any lower? He was inclined to think not, but at the same time, launching the Dust Embargo process gave him pause. It would be viewed as a massive statement of distrust of the Kingdom's three neighbors, and represent heavy monetary losses for the Schnee Dust Company, to say nothing of his very own government's shipping and trade regulation sectors. But he had to do _something…_

His heart, which had raced uncontrollably as the file was sent from his terminal, now quieted. What was there to do now? He thought of the free time he had somehow procured as something of an oddity. On any other day, he would have headed down to the R&D facility to check on his crack team of scientists. Knowing the "super-genius" type, they became the most inventive and creative far after standard working hours. However, these visits were more of an extension of his own work than anything else. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and studied the barren desk. No family pictures or encouraging notes graced the simple surface. Sliding open a drawer, he drew out the one hard-copy picture he cared to own. A green-clad girl with short red hair. Penny.

After a knock on his door, he quickly hid the picture and placed his notes to Yang face-down on his desk. "Sir," Winter issued.

"Do enter," the General replied.

"Your request has arrived," she spoke with an uncharacteristic lump in her throat as she entered. She handed him a small box. "Would you like to open it alone?" Winter asked.

Simply not knowing which he would prefer, he went with a classic. "Yes," he muttered, as if there was no other option.

"I understand." Winter had swallowed the lump. She saluted and left.

He opened the box to be grimly proven right. Inside was a small memory card bearing the Atlesian military logo, as well as the On/Standby circle-and-line: Penny's emblem.

There was enough data space on that card to encode each atom of the known universe, but Ironwood knew exactly what he needed to find. He swiped irritably across the screen of his personal terminal, which he was using to run the card. The video feed, overlaid with the Atlas military emblem and a HUD tracking her swords, limbs, Aura coils and internal "organs" began on the monitor.

" _Sal-U-Tations, Pyrrha Nikos!"_

This was going to be a long two minutes.

The screen displayed the Vytal Festival Tournament in Vale. Pyrrha Nikos looked around, dazed, seeming to cower at something only she could see in the air.

"therapyDialogTree" appeared on Penny's on-screen software console.

"What is the matter, Pyrrha? Why are you so scared?" the sweet, innocent voice asked. "Are you having a flashback? Do you want to talk about it? I will protect you, Pyrrha."

Suddenly, Pyrrha yelped and funneled every ounce of her Aura into her Semblance. Penny's video feed glitched and fizzed; her HUD and software console became unreadable to Ironwood. It flashed back into solid high-definition just as one of the sword icons on the upper right began to flash, and then vanished.

The entire interface and every line of text flashed red. The console read, "/System Alert, Sword Control Error S7Disconnect." Suddenly, the sword's control cable whipped across Penny's vision. The HUD showed that a large part of her arm had been amputated. Then, her legs and belly disappeared entirely from the system. The video feed froze as she sensed the Dust-infused fluid leaking from her batteries and tried to conserve power, and Ironwood was left staring at what equated to her vital signs, as well as the last thing she had seen: A poorly focused image of Ironwood himself. Her systems tried one last time to analyze and tag him, but froze and jittered.

Ironwood put his hands against his desk and rested his head against his arms. His heart was racing and he felt faint. In that moment, he wanted to stay there for the rest of his life.

A sudden beep brought his gaze back to the monitor. A new line had appeared on the console. "ToggleCommunicationPacing" would cause Penny to write and speak at her full speed, far faster than a human could understand. It was one of the software features they had written to further her seamless portrayal of a human by inhibiting her to the usual human limits of perception and cognition. Now, with it switched off, she could write a novel within a second. And, less than a second later, there it was.

"'Memoir' Created" and "'Tribute' Created" appeared below the previous notification. Those two files were the last things Ironwood had of the girl who all but played his daughter in public and loved him like a father in private.

Searching the memory card high and low returned the two files located in a folder named "Ironwood." Bracing himself, Ironwood opened what appeared to be the shorter of the two files, Tribute. It was very short, but he could tell that it was Penny who wrote it. It was robotic and innocent, but so meaningful and full of _love_ that he found himself reading it over and over, each successive attempt not dampening the blow at all. The last paragraph was what cut him the most deeply.

 _"_ _Please do not attempt to revive me. Even now I can feel it. My Aura is gone. If I were to come alive again, with my Aura coils repaired, I wouldn't be your girl… and I know you don't want that. I can see you now. Well not literally, but you know what I mean. You're going to try. It warms my heart. I'm more grateful than words can describe to know you would always take care of me and want me back. But now is not the time. Just… remember me, okay? You always made me so happy._

 _XO,_

 _~Penny_

Her complete openness in such dire circumstances put him to shame. Now, he longed for the ability to be open with others. He grabbed the notepad again. He hadn't the foggiest idea of whom he would let read it, just so long as he did _something_ to let it all out. His penmanship broke down as he wrote more and more, and it became nearly illegible. Before he even realized what was happening, the paper tore, having been dampened. Tears had begun to drop all over the paper battlefield, and the ink was beginning to bleed. Overcome with shame and sorrow, he drew his gun, rushed to his office window, threw the notepad out, and pumped it full of lead.

Immediately, the door broke open, revealing a pale, weeping Winter. It was obvious to him that she had been waiting outside the door ever since delivering Penny's memories. And bursting in on him… both were major violations. Winter had every reason to expect discipline… until she saw his face. Quickly resetting his expression, he struggled to find it within himself to rebuke her, but stopped short after the first word. "W-Winter…" he did his best to growl.

Winter, in an extraordinary display of emotion, sighed in relief and quickly brushed away her tears. Her eyes, however, still spoke volumes of her concern.

 _"_ _Winter… I'm so sorry,"_ Ironwood longed to say it. Had he really let himself appear as if he had no way out but suicide?

"My apologies, General. Current political climate has made me… foolishly… concerned for your wellbeing," Ironwood knew her too well. There was no truth in those words. Her fears were definitely real, and she knew that better than anyone.

" _It is I who am at fault,"_ he longed to say. Instead, he simply muttered, "I appreciate your concern, Schnee. My weapon simply misfired during cleaning. Nothing is damaged or broken. On an unrelated note," he paused. He could tell her anything. Winter could keep secrets with the best of them.

"The package for Yang Xiao Long is ready. I will order it to her residence in Patch at first light tomorrow."

She did not move, despite protocol demanding that she about-face and leave the office at once.

"Schnee," he warned, _so_ _much_ against his will. Her concerns not resolved in the slightest, she slowly turned and left, a near imperceptible trace of hurt in her wide eyes. Ironwood caught sight of it. Having spent so many years among blank, strict faces, he had learned, with more ability than most, to read people. Reading them, apparently, was as close as he would ever be able to get.

 **Closing A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I felt that having an Aura made Penny special enough that she couldn't be "fixed" entirely. In my opinion if Penny was rebooted, she would act much like a Dementor victim: having lost her soul, deeply depressed and despondent. If anyone decides to take this headcanon as a prompt, please PM me, I'd love to read it.**

 **One last question: How interested would you all be in the full version of Penny's letter to Ironwood?**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **And Yes: Penny's final memory replay was inspired by C-3PO being reassembled by Chewbacca in** ** _The Empire Strikes Back._**


End file.
